all of the questions we call home
by singsongsung
Summary: All is lost, hope remains, and this war's not over.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This follows the plotlines of the show but is also vaguely AU. It'll all make sense in good time.

* * *

**all of the questions we call home**

* * *

_new york, new york, 2020._

The first time she sees him he is literally a ray of sunshine on the cloudiest of days.

The sky is dark with clouds and the rumbling threat of torrential rain, her heels are giving her blisters and digging into the moistened ground, and despite the fact that she's standing amidst everybody who's anybody in New York society, she feels utterly alone.

But then, he's right there, standing a few feet away from her, looking so much like a memory that for a few minutes she wonders if she made him up.

She squints. His mouth quirks up into something that might've been a smile, under any other circumstances, and it makes her breath catch in the back of her throat.

People start to drift away, moving around her, pausing to shake her hand and say her name and offer words that she never really hears. They have no reason to stay. They're here on social obligation, here because of the implications of her last name. They don't care enough to brave this weather for another moment longer.

Another hand grasps hers, another _take care, darling_ echoes in her ears.

Then she's alone, _they're_ alone, just him and her in the broad, gray landscape of today's heavy tragedy.

He walks toward her, as though he understands that she can't really move. He stops about a foot away from her, says, "Hey," very gently.

She lifts a hand, just to touch him, to make sure he's real, but the movement stops halfway there, her fingers clutching at nothing but air. "How are you _here_?" she whispers.

"My, uh…my mom told me."

"Your mom told you." She repeats the words slowly.

He nods, and reaches out to her, but his hand stops before he can touch her, falling back to his side. "I'm so sorry."

She blows out her breath, a puff of smoke in the chilly air, and she closes her eyes while she swallows down the taste of grief. "Sorry," she manages to say, "about what?"

"Serena," he whispers apologetically, but she holds up both hands in front of her, her fingers splayed and stiff. She doesn't want his apologies, doesn't want his pity, doesn't want him here at _all_, especially if he only came at his mother's bidding, acting on her orders.

She drops her hands, wilting a bit, her shoulders curving in and her hair falling around her face. "Fuck you," she whispers.

"Serena." His tone is different, this time, when he says her name, and that's what makes her realize that she's crying – _again._ Her tears are cold against her own cheeks.

He reaches out again, and this time he makes it all the way. He hugs her – or really, he lets her fall into him – and she doesn't stop it from happening. She leans into him, grips the fabric of his jacket in one fist, and _ohgodohgod_, he smells exactly like he did when they were kids, a lifetime ago.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, saying the words into her hair, as soft as a secret. "You can hate me," he continues, as if it could ever be that easy.

She does. And she also doesn't.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, even softer now. His arms wrap around her more tightly, a tentative gesture that she would put a stop to if she had any resolve left at all.

"Me too," she breathes.

"Serena?" Blair's voice is too high a pitch, too sharp a sound, for both the setting and the moment, and it tears them away from each other. Serena glances into his eyes, a little stunned, before she turns toward the sound of her best friend's voice.

Blair stops in her tracks. Her dark hair is gathered away from her face in a neat bun, and she's wearing black from head to toe. On her hip, legs locked around Blair's waist, is a little girl, around the age where she's getting to old to be carried but not to be denied on a day like today.

"Nate," she says. It sounds like a question mark, neatly punctuated but demanding a response.

"Blair," he replies evenly, and Serena sees the way surprise flickers through his eyes. "I didn't know…" He trails off and clears his throat.

She purses her lips, looking at Serena for a long moment. "Well. You've grown up."

His eyes land pointedly on the child she's carrying. "So have you."

Blair glances back at Serena, another measured look. "We all have."

The little girl lifts her head from where it was resting on Blair's shoulder and Serena examines her face, the pink tint to her cheeks and the permanently messy state of her honeysuckle-coloured hair that stays in thick curls no matter what is done to tame it, the glassy sheen over her eyes.

She considers Nate with critical eyes. "D'you know my dad?" she asks.

Serena's breath catches in her throat and doesn't come free for a moment. She feels the way Blair watches her while she watches Nate; he studies Blair and the child she's holding carefully, as if trying to place the little girl's parentage.

He's quiet for too long so Blair fills the emptiness with soothing words. "No, honey," she says, bouncing the little girl on her hip a bit. "He didn't."

She wilts a little, the little girl, leaning in head back against Blair's shoulder tiredly. "Oh," she murmurs, small fingers playing with Blair's hair.

Serena steps forward a bit. "You can't carry her around all day, B. She's getting too big."

"It's fine," Blair replies smoothly, leaning her cheek against the child's hair. "We're fine, aren't we?"

The little girl nods.

"You two can talk," Blair offers, smiling faintly, a smile formed out of etiquette rather than mirth of any kind. "We'll be at the wake, you'll find us."

Serena returns her smile with a grateful one of her own, stepping even closer to kiss Blair's cheek. "Thank you," she breathes as Blair returns the gesture.

Blair turns to leave, murmuring, "I should tell you a story, shouldn't I?" to the girl in her hold, and Serena watches them go, feels a pang of something deep in her chest, before she looks back at Nate.

"You and Blair," he says quietly. "You two are…"

"Friends," Serena cuts in, crossing her arms over her chest. "Always have been; you know that."

"But…_still_." He pauses. "I didn't think anything – any of us, the way we were – would survive…that." The way he says it is weak, tiptoeing around the subject, giving the realm of _before_ a very wide berth.

"Well, Blair and I did." There's not as much bite behind her words as she'd like there to be. "Not that you'd know, since you weren't here."

His expression darkens, the light in his eyes dampening a bit. "You're not one to talk about running away, S."

She lifts her chin. "Don't you dare." A shake of her head, and she adds, "You did not come _here_, to_day_, to rehash the past with me. You wouldn't do that."

Nate nods slowly, and the weight of his gaze eases up a bit. He reaches out to tug at a lock of her hair, like they're five years old again, surprising her. "S and B," he says fondly. "Best friends forever. I should have known."

She bites her lip, whispers, "Why are you here?"

"Worried about you."

"You've had years to worry about me, Nate. You had my wedding day to worry about me."

He scoffs, older and darker than she's ever known him. "You can't have expected me to come."

"Oh?" Her heart feels like it's cracking. "You'll commemorate the end, but not the beginning?"

Chagrined, he sighs. "Serena."

"What? Am I wrong?"

He lifts his eyebrows and meets her dare head-on. "Yes."

"You're my friend." She swallows. "I wanted you to be there."

He looks at her for a long time – too long, and it makes her wonder when he changed from a boy who raced to catch up with her to a man who stretched out her silences. "We can't," he finally says, as if this is some great piece of philosophy, "always get what we want."

She laughs. She laughs and the sound startles them both, ripped from her throat unexpectedly, unbidden. She ducks her head and looks at him from behind the veil of her hair. "I wanted you – " she begins again, but then her giggles morph abruptly into sobs, too quick for her mouth to shut in order to keep them from escaping.

Nate touches her cheek, wiping away a single tear, the rough pad at his fingertip lingering over her skin a little too long.

"You have me now," he bargains.

Too little, too late – but somehow enough.

**tbc.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you for your feedback!

* * *

_new york, new york, 2009._

"Se_re_na," Blair whines from where she's perched at the foot of Nate's bed. The blonde is sprawled out over the messy blankets and the tangled sheets, her face buried in one of the pillows. "Don't fall asleep."

"It's all your fault." Serena lifts her head, pokes her lower lip out. "You made me get up so early."

Blair rolls her eyes. "We have _school_. We have to be there at a certain time."

Chuck steps into Nate's room at that moment, carrying a tray that contains four styrofoam cups and a paper bag that undoubtedly holds fresh bagels. "Breakfast," he announces, handing Blair a cup and leans over Serena. "Up, sleeping beauty," he orders her.

"No," she murmurs, turning her face away from his.

Blair giggles a little in between sips of coffee. "That's what you get for partying all night every night this summer."

Serena glares at her a bit. "It was not _every_ night."

"Nah," Nate interjects, emerging from the bathroom in his uniform, his hair wet and messy. "Definitely not every night. Just ninety-eight percent of nights, right, S?"

She gives in and sits up; her hair is now just as messy as his is. "_No_," she replies very firmly, but she's smiling.

Blair smiles, too, at them both. She hands Serena her coffee cup and stands up, tying the tie Nate left lose around his neck efficiently. Once she's done she leans in and kisses him, and he smiles against her mouth.

"You taste good," he murmurs into their kiss.

Chuck sits on the bed, nudges Serena's shoulder with his own. "Think they forgot we're here?"

She giggles and pretends to gag, making faces. "Please, not so early."

Blair glances at her best friend over her shoulder, frowning, and proceeds to stick out her tongue – maybe not the playful argument she intended to have on her first day of her senior year of high school, but a familiar one. She plants one last kiss on Nate's lips before turning around and taking a tiny bite of the bagel Serena's holding.

"We're going to be late," she points out after she chews, eyeing the clock on Nate's nightstand anxiously.

Chuck scoffs, smirking at her. "As if we could be so lucky."

Nate laughs, tugging on one end of Chuck's signature blue-white-and-red plaid scarf. "Let's go, man." He glances at Serena. "Awake, S?"

"Barely," she huffs, holding out her hands so that Blair can pull her to her feet.

They leave Nate's house together, the four of them. Blair brings up the rear, following behind Serena, who struts down the steps as she guzzles coffee, and Nate and Chuck, who are lamenting the end of a summer when days were full of video games and marijuana. She pauses on the steps, closes her eyes for a moment and breathes in deeply. The air smells like fall – crisp and clean, as fresh as a new beginning. This has been the way she's started her school years for nearly a decade now: Serena's sleepy whining, Nate's inability to get ready on time, Chuck's smarmy remarks. This, the first day of their senior year, is the last time they'll do this. This is the year that winds a road toward the world that will be their oyster after graduation.

She smiles, opening her eyes. She can't wait.

"Move it, Waldorf," Chuck grumbles as Serena slips into the backseat of his limo, her skirt flipping up so high that they all _almost_ get a glimpse of her lingerie.

Nate slips an arm around her and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Your chariot awaits, milady," he teases, extending a hand to gesture to the limo.

She giggles and cuddles into his hold for a second before slipping away, moving past Chuck to get into the car – and making sure to tuck her seersucker skirt around her legs as she does.

* * *

"This is so bad," she hisses under her breath as she and Serena run down the front steps of Constance Billard. It's 1:15 in the afternoon – still a couple hours before the school day, the _first_ school day, is over.

"We're just going shopping, B." Serena's eyes glitter with mirth. "It's not like that's illegal."

She sniffs, hooking her arm through Serena's and leaning into the taller girl. "We're truants."

Serena giggles. "_You_," she corrects, "are ridiculous. And I am bringing some excitement to your life."

"But – " Her sentence is cut off when Serena tugs her to run across the street ahead of a car, pulling her safely onto the sidewalk. Blair steps away from her with a long-suffering sigh, smoothing down her skirt, as Serena walks directly into someone.

"Oh my god!" she exclaims, brushing her hair out of her face and smiling prettily. "I'm so sorry."

The boy she ran into stares at her, a little stunned, coffee spilled all over the notebook he's holding and on his shirt – which is a familiar shade of yellow that Blair can't quite place. He doesn't say anything.

Serena presses a hand against the stain on his chest, says, "I'm _so_ sorry," again as she bites her lip.

"It's…okay…" The boy finally speaks, but Serena's moved on already, hooking her arm back through Blair's and making one last apologetic face at him before the girls move away.

Blair holds back giggles. "Very smooth, S. And you just _left_ him there."

"Well, it's not like I can put his coffee back in his cup," Serena replies breezily. "Now, come _on_, you said yesterday that you wanted a dress for your dinner-date with Nate tonight."

"True…" Blair gives in and smiles back. "Barney's or Bendel's? Or both?"

Serena laughs. "How is that even a _question_?"

* * *

"That one you had on…three dresses ago…you looked _beautiful_ in that, B."

Blair ignores Serena, along with the pleading note in the other girl's tone. She steps out of her dress and puts it carefully back on the hanger, untwisting the straps. "I hated that dress."

She knows without looking exactly what position Serena's in right now – she's slouching on the leathery couch a couple feet away from the door of Blair's fitting room, fiddling with her cell phone and pouting, bored but trying not to be.

"Blair," she says softly, and Blair can picture the look in her best friend's eyes, gentle and knowing. She doesn't open the door of the dressing room.

There's shuffling outside the door and then Serena's voice sounds much closer, right on the other side of the door. They both stand there in silence for a couple moments and then Serena continues again, as if there's nothing wrong, as if this moment isn't awkward, as if their silence isn't full of every single one of the things they never say, "I'm going to get you a couple more dresses, okay? Promise me you'll try them."

"S," she sighs, looking at all the dresses she's discarded in the past hour. It's starting to feel like a lost cause.

"I saw something perfect for you earlier. Just promise me."

"Fine, I promise."

"Yes!" Serena cheers, and then she moves away, her heels clacking in a quick pattern against the tiled floor.

Blair waits impatiently, facing around in the dressing room, not looking in the mirror.

And Serena comes back with the perfect dress, a pale lilac colour with black accents in all the right places. She sits back down on the couch, her feet tapping impatiently on the floor as she waits for Blair to emerge.

"Spin!" she orders.

With a giggle, Blair obliges her, twirling around and striking a modeling pose.

Serena claps, leaning her elbows on her knees and beaming. "Nate will eat his heart out," she says.

Blair blushes and pretends that she doesn't see the nearly-imperceptible way that Serena's smile hitches with those words.

* * *

Nate sits on her bed, looking around her room idly while Blair steps out of her heels and carefully takes off her jewelry. She smiles at his reflection in the mirror.

"What are you looking at?"

"Just…your stuff." He smiles back at her, brushing his messy hair back from his face.

"All stuff that you've seen a million times before," she reasons, padding back over to him in her bare feet.

He reaches for her, pulling her onto the bed next to him. She laughs as she settles her head against one of her pillows; they're lying side-by-side, facing one another, his hand resting on her hip. His mouth finds hers in a wonderful, comfortable kiss. His mouth still tastes like chocolate cake and well-aged wine.

"It's still stuff I like, though," he says against her mouth.

She smiles contentedly, eyelashes fluttering, and she only bites her lip and presses herself a little closer when his fingertips trace over the slim zipper at the back of her dress.

Nate kisses her neck and unzips her dress and sighs against her skin.

"My mom," she murmurs, "will be home soon."

"I know," Nate mumbles back. Eleanor will be home soon, most likely – he knows as well as Blair does that her original flight back from Paris was scheduled three days ago, before some sort of emergency occurred at Waldorf Designs.

She laughs a little. "So…should you go?"

He grins. There is a single lamp on in her room, its bulb glowing softly beneath the shade, and her curtains are open just a crack, just enough to let a sliver of moonlight in. It's a familiar moment, a familiar scene, and she feels warm and safe, loved and _home_.

"D'you want me to go?"

Blair tugs the knot in his tie loose. "I'll think about it," she teases.

* * *

She wakes up alone early in the morning, wrapped up in her blankets. Dorota bustles around her, saying _Miss Blair_ and _school in one hour_ but Blair stays in bed for a few extra minutes, smiling at the note Nate left on her pillow (_see you at school, sweetheart – I'll be the one with your heart on my sleeve_).

When she finally sits up, she smoothes her hair out of her face and keeps smiling as she gets out of bed and moves around her room, full of the same things she's always had, the things she's always liked and loved.

Even though she's wearing nothing but her favourite, silkiest robe, she sets a red headband into her tangled hair and considers her reflection in the mirror.

"Who's the fairest of them all?" a voice from behind her teases. Serena's standing in the doorway of Blair's room in her uniform skirt a too-short shirt that bares a couple inches of skin between its hem and the waistband of her skirt, her typical brand of mismatched conformity.

Blair rolls her eyes at her friend's appearance. "You're up early."

Serena plucks a ribbon off of Blair's dresser and uses it to tie her mess of a blonde hair into a ponytail. "You're up late," she replies knowingly, one eyebrow arched. She sits down in a chair and steals a strawberry off the platter of breakfast foods Dorota brought upstairs. "And you look happy," she adds sincerely.

Pulling the headband off her head, Blair shakes out her hair and grins at her best friend, her sister. "I think this is going to be our year, S."

"It always was," Serena replies blithely.

"I mean it, though." Blair squeezes into the chair as well and opens her mouth obediently, allowing Serena to feed her a strawberry.

Serena nudges her. "Why don't you shower and get dressed so you can go reign over your adoring subjects, then, princess?"

Blair giggles but she doesn't move, decides instead to stay squished into this chair, this moment, with Serena. "Do you ever think about what comes after this?"

"After what?"

"After this year. After high school."

Serena frowns contemplatively. "Does it even matter? We know what happens. Real life starts."

"And…what's real life?"

Serena laughs, her head tipped back. "Hell if I know, B." She smiles softly. "But we'll figure it out, we always do."

Blair leans into Serena, pressing her cheek against S's shoulder. "What if this is as good as it gets?"

Sticking out her tongue, Serena retorts, "And what if the only way to go is up?"

Her hand finds Blair's, an instinctive gesture that surprises neither girl, and they squeeze each other's fingers.

Serena kisses the side of Blair's head and whispers, "Get dressed, lazy girl."

Blair squeezes her eyes shut. "In a minute," she whispers back.

**tbc.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you for your feedback.

* * *

She stops right outside the room, hesitant and suddenly unsteady in her heels. He reaches for her elbow automatically, wanting to help her find gravity again.

Her eyes find his, a bright, aching sort of blue.

"Louboutins," he says softly with half a smile and a glance at her feet. He spied the red soles of her shoes earlier – she'd always loved those. He tilts his head toward the doorway. "Want to bail?"

She blows out her breath. "I wish." She brushes by him as she walks in.

He watches her go, tracing the lines of her body with his eyes. She's still (always) beautiful.

Serena stops abruptly just past the threshold, and he has to rest a hand against the small of her back in order to avoid running into her completely. He's about to ask if she's alright when he sees what caused her to freeze.

It's Chuck.

He's dressed fully in black, his outfit free of even a single spot of colour, and he looks different in so many more ways than Nate can really understand.

"Nathaniel," says the man who was once his best friend, nodding to acknowledge his presence. It's a polite gesture, a routine one.

Serena blinks, clearly surprised. "I wasn't sure you'd be here." She's ignoring him now, all of her attention on Chuck.

"Of course I'm here," he says in response, his voice low and gravelly. He takes Serena's hand, slips what looks like a business card with a message scribbled on the back of it into her palm, and curls her fingers gently around it.

She presses her lips together, and her voice is tight when she says, "You're not staying."

Chuck glances over his shoulder and clears his throat. Nate tries to figure out what he was looking at, but the room is full of people and it's been too many years for him to naturally know, to instinctively understand what's on Chuck's mind. "I can't, sis," he says, and there is a real apology underlining those words.

A little desperately, she says, "For an _hour_, Chuck."

"Serena."

They hold one another's gazes for a long time, engaged in a mental conversation Nate is not at all privy to, until finally Serena nods. Chuck gives her hand a squeeze, and to Nate's surprise, leans in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. He whispers something right by her ear, something about _brave_ and _call me_ and Serena nods once again, a little more confidently this time.

Chuck pauses for only a second in front of Nate, his eyebrows raised. "I'll see you, Nathaniel."

"Yeah, man," he replies, mildly flustered. They shake hands.

Nate stares after the other man for a moment too long. "You all…kept in touch," he says slowly.

Serena rubs at her face with one hand. "To a degree."

"Would've been nice to know."

"Would have been nice to have you around." Her tone is scathing but her eyes don't match it and he feels like a jerk. It used to be easy, _so_ easy, for him to make her smile. Now he feels like she's moments away from breaking and he has no idea how to hold her together.

"Serena!" A woman he's never seen before descends on them in a cloud of heavy perfume and a perfectly-formed sympathetic frown. She grasps Serena's hands. "Honey. How are you?" Without waiting for a reply she turns toward Nate, openly curious. "And _you_ are?"

Serena looks like she _might_ smile, just for a second. "This is Nate," she introduces him, "my old friend. Nate, this is Maria, my ex-agent."

Maria rolls her eyes. "_Ex_," she scoffs. "You'll come back to me one day."

"Nice to meet you," Nate says, at a loss for any other response. "Unfortunate circumstances, though."

"Yes." Her frown reappears and she squeezes Serena's hands until her fingers turn white. "You call me, alright?"

"Sure," Serena says easily, and Maria drifts away.

Nate nudges her shoulder with his own. "Liar."

She gives him a wry look. "She's still convinced I'll go back into the business."

"And you won't?" he prods.

"No." Her eyes drift across the room, seeking someone or something out. "I have different priorities now."

"Sweetheart…" Lily appears behind them, looking a little older than Nate remembers her, but as dignified as ever in a black dress and with silver bracelets on her wrists. She smiles knowingly when she sees him. "And _Nate_. I had a feeling you'd be here today."

Lily's hand drifts over Serena's back and Nate sees it, the way Serena tenses under her mother's touch and moves away the tiniest bit, but he doesn't let himself wonder about it. He can't keep stockpiling questions.

"Mom," Serena says quietly, shifting away. She steps closer to him and he doesn't move back, doesn't make room; he lets her arm brush his, toying with the idea of touching her hand.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Lily's voice is low and serious. The half-smile on her lips stays there for the benefit of anyone watching the conversation.

"With Blair." Serena's face is blank – no smiles, not even half-formed ones, for anyone's benefit. "You know that."

Lily's smile tightens, a look of disapproval that Nate knows well. "I wish you would come home, Serena."

"I wish you'd leave me alone, Mother."

"Serena." There's a warning in Lily's voice this time.

"Stop. Please." Her fists clench at her sides and Nate doesn't even think about it, he just reaches over and wraps his hand around her closed fist, a wordless show of support. "I'm staying with B right now. That's what I want."

"And what about what you _need_? And what T – "

"_Mom._" Serena looks at her, eyes glittering with unshed tears, voice cracking.

Lily nods slowly, her eyes raking over her daughter's face. "Alright. We'll discuss it later." She touches Serena's arm, says, "I'll find you afterward," and then moves away, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease.

Serena lifts her hands, pressing both palms against her face. She stays perfectly still and Nate steps carefully in front of her, trying to shield her from prying eyes.

"The more things change…" he says softly, right by her ear.

She exhales softly, and he thinks that maybe, _maybe_, he hears the tiniest bit of laughter behind it.

He smiles a bit. "Staying with Blair right now, huh?"

Dropping her hands, she looks at him and says, trusting and simple, "Yeah. Home is…hard, right now."

Nate nods solemnly – he has no idea how hard home must be for her right now; _hard_ is probably an understatement. "Listen, S – "

"_S_." There's an urgent note in Blair's voice that Nate recognizes instantly. It collides with his voice, both of them saying that one syllable, one letter, at the same time, and her voice overrides his. Instinctively, he searches her out, but Serena reacts to it faster than he does, spinning around.

Blair looks a little helpless, a little apologetic, but Serena is not even looking at her best friend. She's kneeling down instead, her arms opening as the little girl Nate remembers from earlier rushes away from Blair into her arms, her arms tight around Serena's neck and her face pressed against Serena's shoulder.

Nate can feel Blair's gaze on him, the way she's awaiting his reaction. He doesn't understand the weight of it until a moment later, when Serena smoothes the little girl's hair and kisses her cheek.

"Hey, baby," she says, her voice incredibly soft, a tone he's never really heard her use before. "Shh." She pulls back a little, brushing tangled hair away from the girl's tear-streaked cheeks. "It's okay."

He looks up at Blair, feeling shock set in, just as the little girl bursts into a fresh batch of tears and says, "_Mommy_."

**tbc.**


End file.
